


Ninth Dimension, Seventh Lane

by ohfreckle



Series: Since I Found Serenity [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Firefly Setting, BAMF Magnus Bane, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Salt, Space Opera, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 06:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15657396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfreckle/pseuds/ohfreckle
Summary: After the Lightwood siblings found out that they weren't working for the good guys, they broke with the Clave. They're on the run now in a stolen Firefly transporter, trying to make it to Earth, which has been deserted for centuries, to hide the Mortal Cup so it can't be used against Downworlders. Between working jobs as smugglers and his relationship with his security officer, Alec isn't exactly happy, but content.Until Magnus Bane, warlock and companion, joins them as a passenger.





	Ninth Dimension, Seventh Lane

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you goes to the kickass Mods of the SH Hiatus Big Bang, my lovely taskmaster and beta @Tiger_Tiger_Burning_Bright, and my talented artists @enkelimagnus and @Pameluke ❤️
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://ohfreckle.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohfreckle) if you want to interact while reading, I track #frecklefic on twitter.   
> I promise this fic isn't as gruesome as the tags suggest, only the tag for salt, that one is true. Any similarities to current world politics are intended.

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The attack comes out of nowhere. They’re doing business on Persephone, haggling over two pounds of Adamas to boost the trace compression block of the Alicante.

Raphael almost has the three dealers convinced that the three pounds of platinum they offer in return is a good deal. Alec already opens up a channel to the Alicante, ready to get out of here, when everything goes to hell.

A fighter appears out of nowhere, opening fire without warning. The dealers are chasing tail, and with them goes the Adamas they need.

Alec and Raphael barely make it to the Alicante in a rain of dust and rock, and not a second too late. A shock wave hits the ship as soon they close the access ramp, followed a by a quick succession of smaller but no less powerful waves.

“Maia, get us out of here,” Alec shouts, his heart hammering in his chest. Relief floods him when he feels the familiar vibration of the engine under his boots. Maia is revving up the engine to an Adamas-powered full burn, pushing it the limit, and then they’re gone, leaving behind nothing but a bright tail of fire.

This was close. Scratch that. Too close, if the high-pitched roar that comes from the back means what Alec thinks it does.

Fuck.

***

Alec stalks through the docks of Eavesdown, glaring at everyone who so much as looks his way.

What a mess.

Not only did they burn their last bit of Adamas, now their compression coil is broken too. Without it, they’re not going anywhere.

Or as Izzy put it: _we’re fucked_.

She did find a way to fix it, temporarily, but until they find a new coil and perform a complete overhaul, they’ll barely go faster than a snail.

Smuggling is a lot harder than Alec thought it would be. Most days they get by okay, but it would be nice if shit didn’t happen every other day.

Traders, vendors, and all kind of shady folk are vying for attention despite the late hour. Ignoring the colorful bustle around him, Alec pushes through the crowd with long strides. The novelty of it wore off a long time ago, and he isn’t the mood.

Alec pushes open the door to a small repair shop with more force than strictly necessary. The door bangs against the wall and bounces back, metal grating on brick.

“Lightwood, still haven’t learnt some manners, I see.” Meliorn barely looks up from where he’s writing into a ledger.

“Would be wasted on you anyway,” Alec grunts.

Seelies are notoriously tricky negotiators, and Meliorn is right there on top. He and Izzy went from occasional lovers to something resembling friends over the years. That’s why Alec wanted to bring Izzy, but she had waved him off with both arms elbow-deep in the compression block, telling him to get over himself.

What a joke. Alec gets along with people. It’s not his fault Meliorn is an utter prick.

“I need a compression coil for a 03-K64-Firefly. Three pounds of platinum and we have a deal.”

“Look, Lightwood finally found a sense of humor.” Meliorn bares his teeth and couldn’t look more bored if he tried. “Everyone wants a compression coil. There aren’t many left for that pile of garbage you call a transport ship. Even if I had—and I’m not saying that I have—the price if fifteen pounds of platinum.”

“Fifteen?” Alec asks, incredulous. There’s a reason people say never trust a seelie. “You’re a real hoot. It’s not worth five.”

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem finding one somewhere else.” Meliorn stands and comes around the rickety counter. Raziel knows why he’s dressed in a colorful leather get up when he’s handling greasy parts all day. “Don’t waste my time.”

“You know damn well that we don’t have fifteen pounds.” The admission grates like sandpaper in Alec’s throat, but the Alicante doesn’t fly on pride. “Seven,” he says. “Three now, the rest as soon as we find another job.”

“Ten, and I have just the job you need.” Meliorn sticks his hand out for them to shake on it, and that’s when Alec knows he’s been played.

“Magnus!” Meliorn hollers, his lips lifting at the corners into an almost smile.

Alec would tell him to shut it, but the accords are still in effect. Trying to kill a downworlder would defeat the purpose of breaking with the Clave to save the Downworld. Besides, Alec still needs that coil.

A man who must be Magnus steps out from the back of the shop. For a moment Alec forgets how to breathe. Magnus is _hot_. Not that that’s significant in any way. Emotions, feelings, _sex_ are distractions, and he’s got already more of those on his hands than he can handle. On top of that, he’s fighting a war against his own people. Some days he doesn’t even know why.

Still, _hot_ is the one thing about Magnus he can’t stop thinking. Fancy, in a way Alec has never seen. Not the stiff collar kind of fancy. Stiff isn’t the way to describe Magnus with his flowing turquoise shirt that shimmers with every sway of his hips—

Which is as irrelevant as the dark makeup lining his eyes, his neatly trimmed beard or the way he spikes up his hair. Alec doesn’t like fancy. It usually means trouble.

“A little bird told me you’re headed to Earth,” Meliorn says. “Magnus here wants to travel for a few months, find new prospects. His payment for the first three months should cover the seven pounds you still owe me.”

Alec closes his eyes and sucks in a harsh breath. What about _secret mission_ doesn’t Izzy understand?

“The Alicante is a transport vessel, not a cruiser for holiday trips.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call the border planets a place to have fun.” Magnus’ voice is smooth like silk against skin, but cool enough to crack glass. “You should know. I hear you’ve been traveling here for quite some time, and look how _serious_ you’ve become.”

“Our ship is not what you’re looking for,” Alec repeats, ignoring the dig. “The Alicante—“

“Is a transport ship, I know.” Magnus throws his hands up and rolls his eyes as if he’s the one who has to deal with bullshit here.

All Alec wants is a compression coil, not take on another liability that will slow them down and attract unwanted attention. They’re already exposed enough as it is.

“Then you’ll know that we might have a lot of space, but we don’t have the necessary conveniences.” Alec waves his hand at Magnus, struggling to find the right words for someone as dazzling as Magnus. “For someone like you.”

“I’m perfectly able to make the necessary adaptations to any rooms for the _likes of me_.”

“You want the coil, you’ll take him. That’s the price.” Meliorn smiles, a nasty little thing with too many teeth. “And I’m sure can use a warlock. I assume there’s a lot to fix on that heap of trash you fly.”

***

“That’s not what I meant when I said we have space,” Alec pants, heaving the last of Magnus’ boxes into the cargo room. “You couldn’t have brought these here with magic?”

“Of course, but then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure to see your lovely biceps bulge just for me.”

Magnus brushes his fingertips over the strength rune on Alec’s upper arm and Alec physically recoils, surprised how violently he reacts. He doesn’t like to be casually touched by strangers, but that’s not it. Far from it. Magnus’ touch lingers, a tingling sensation that doesn’t stop even when the contact is broken. Alec can feel his heartbeat picking up, and if that isn’t humiliating enough, Magnus’ barely concealed smile shows that he knows exactly what is going on inside Alec’s head.

Good for him, that makes at least one of them because Alec doesn’t have a clue.

“Well, darling, if I have to live here for the time being,” Magnus says, twirling his fingers to encompass the functional room. “At least I want to do it in style.”

Did he just call him—

Alec stares at Magnus, clicking his mouth shut. He’s suddenly hot, heat spreading from the tip of his ears down his neck and up to his cheeks. Raziel’s wings, he’s _not_ going to blush. Not after he spent the whole shuttle ride successfully ignoring the strange tension between them that started the second they met and won’t settle.

“Too much?” Magnus’ eyes are guileless, a fraction too wide. “You know, dislike can be a strong aphrodisiac. I once had—”

“You must be Magnus. Welcome aboard the Alicante!”

Izzy jogs up to them, pulling Alec into a hug that he returns without thinking. She gives Magnus her best smile, grinning when he winks at her.

“Magnus Bane, the one and only,” Magnus says, and there’s that smooth voice again. “And you must be Isabelle. Any friend of Meliorn is my friend, too.”

Izzy—Alec’s little sister who can kick ass in five-inch heels and at the same time fix the engine with her eyes closed—giggles, her cheeks flushing almost as hot as his own.

Alec can feel a headache forming at the base of his skull. If those two bond, he’ll never have a moment of peace again.

***

“I’m sorry.” At least Izzy has the decency to look contrite.

They’ve shown Magnus to his quarters, leaving him to do whatever warlocks do in their spare time. Alec doesn’t care as long as it doesn’t involve explosions.

He leans back against the kitchen counter where he’s laid out all the ingredients for dinner. He likes cooking. It’s easy, methodical. Following a recipe gives him something to focus on when the chaos in his life becomes too much.

Alec loves his family. Every single one of them, related by blood or not. But sometimes he feels as if he’s the only who understands that they’re on the cusp of war, not on an adventure holiday.

He’ll never regret that he broke with the Clave. Alec would do it again in a heartbeat. Just the thought that his people are considering ethnic cleansing, the obliteration of warlocks, vampires and werewolves alike, makes bile rise in his throat. How can they forget the atrocities during the Uprising? How can they welcome Valentine back into their ranks when he’s the one who almost destroyed the world as they know it eighteen years ago?

There are no winners in a war like this, and that’s why he’s fighting. Why they are all fighting.

“You know it’s not safe,” Alec sighs, crossing his arms. “Not for Magnus, and not for us. We’re renegades. Wanted. It’s too much of a risk.”

“We have to trust someone eventually,” Izzy snaps.

Alec winces. It’s an old argument they keep rehashing. He can hear how much it affects her, wishes he didn’t know her so well that he can detect the hurt and worry in her voice.

“We need help, Alec,” Izzy says, her face drawn and tired. “The Alicante is old. There’s too much for me to fix.”

They need to find a job soon. Alec knows this, and he’s working on it, but that’s not what makes him feel like there’s a fist squeezing his chest. Unable to face Izzy, he turns and stares at the bundle of carrots on the counter. “Is everyone in on this?”

Her silence is more than answer enough.

“Why?” Alec’s throat feels too tight. Fuck.

He grabs a carrot and starts cutting. Izzy’s answer is drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears and the rapid click of the knife coming down on the cutting board. Alec doesn’t need it; he already knows.

_Because you would have said no._

***

“You okay, buddy?” Alec looks up at Jace blearily. Does he look okay? “Just asking, because you look like shit.”

“I don’t care if you’re my brother. I’m still the captain, and I _will_ send you to the brig if you don’t shut up,” Alec grouses. He rubs his gritty eyes and yawns. “Some of us actually work around here.”

“Yes, I see how hard you’ve been working.” A sly smile curls Jace’s lips when he looks at Alec’s computer screen where an image of Magnus’ face is displayed. “Really hard. All night, huh.” Jace clicks through the gallery, punching Alec in the shoulder. One of the images shows Magnus in swimming trunks that leave nothing to the imagination.

“Don’t punch me,” Alec grumbles, refusing to rub his shoulder. All those hours of training are paying off, it seems. Time to step up his own game. Next time he has to hightail it out of a deal gone sour, he’ll need all the stamina he can get. Runes are only as useful as the foundation they’re building on.

“What, so you didn’t lust after our guest? Izzy said you were _blushing_.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alec pushes up from his chair and rolls his shoulders. ”These are official reports from the Clave. I’ve been up all night, studying his file. Am I the only around here who thinks that might be a good idea?”

“So Robert still hasn’t changed his access codes? You certainly didn’t get your uptight attitude from him.”

Alec ignores Jace. He's long since given up on commenting on their father. The helpless fury that threatened to overwhelm him every time he thinks about his parents and their atrocious crimes as members of the Circle has burned out long ago. All Alec feels now is a lingering mix of sadness and disgust he won't allow to affect him.

"He's not just a warlock." Alec taps the screen and opens several windows, once again marveling at the display. Magnus in an old-fashioned coat with ruffles on his shirt. Another window shows him wearing a short silken tunic and not much else, and in yet another one he's wearing some kind of uniform. "The file the Clave has on him fills volumes. He's lived for centuries. Suspected to be one of the Downworld's leaders during the Uprising. And that's not all."

Jace whistles at the new images Alec pulls up. "He's a companion," he breathes. Leaning closer he squints at some of the pictures that show Magnus in situations that are definitely not meant to be shared. Not in polite company at least. Which possibly rules them out. There's no place in this galaxy where smugglers are considered polite company. "It's almost impossible to be chosen as a companion, even for Shadowhunters. How did a downworlder—"

"I am afraid that is none of your business." Magnus steps into the room, rapping his rings against the doorframe. Alec isn't sure what is happening, but with his arrival their surroundings suddenly appear brighter, warmer. "But I'm glad you already discovered my dirty little secret." Magnus makes a face and rolls his eyes. "Revealing it to you righteous Shadowhunters can be quite awkward at the best of times, even when some of the higher-ups in the Clave would _love_ to get dirty with me." Magnus' gaze sweeps over the images, a wicked smile curling his lips.

"So if you're a whore, why don’t we see any Shadowhunters in these?" Alec can hear Jace's sharp intake of breath, and the temperature in the room instantly seems to drop several degrees.

"Because companions choose their customers." Magnus' voice is sharp and cutting, so different from his usual warm tone that Alec feels it like a slap. "Believe me, Shadowhunter, your kind is quite safe from me."

***

Alec is making dinner again. Simon, who acts as their perfunctory cook, had protested but given in easily when Alec had told him to go and bother Izzy. It'll be at least an hour before it's safe to go anywhere near the machine room. Alec's walked in on them more often than he cares, but it's not as if he has the moral high ground on sexual relations with crew members.

As soon as Magnus had left the room shrouded in silk and cold silence, Alec gathered every bit of information he could find about companions. Their services offer pleasure, yes, but that's about the only part he got right. In the short amount of time he had, Alec learned that companions are part of the social elite, sometimes spiritual leaders, held in the highest esteem. He should have known; would have known if he hadn't avoided anything even remotely concerning his sexuality until a year ago. By then they'd already been renegades, and finishing his education as a political leader was the least of Alec's concerns.

Raziel, he feels sick.

How Magnus remained calm enough to ask about renting one of their shuttles, Alec has no idea. He agreed, partly because Jace vehemently nodded his head, but mostly because Magnus offered to pay extra for it since a shuttle isn't part of their deal.

Not even bringing the meat hammer down hard enough to rattle the counter offers any relief for Alec's thoughts. Their pantry miraculously filled with meat and fresh vegetables overnight. Alec knows it was Magnus, even though he didn’t join them yesterday and ate in his room.

Alec wishes he didn’t have to face Magnus tonight, but he fears he won't be that lucky two nights in a row.

***

He isn't.

Evening rolls around, and everyone comes and sits down at the massive table. Alec isn't sure how it happened, but it's become a tradition for all of them to come together like a family for dinner. Only Alec, Jace, and Izzy are related by blood, but somehow their motley crew has come to care about each other more than any family Alec ever had.

Alec sets down the massive bowl of stew on the table, hesitating before he sits down. He takes great care to avoid touching Magnus who somehow ended up in Izzy's usual seat next to him. It helps that Magnus has scooted his chair as far away from his as possible, but with so many people crammed around the table, it doesn't make that much of a difference.

"By now you've all probably heard that we have a guest," Alec says. He takes his spoon and motions toward the bowl, indicating for everyone to help themselves. No need for anyone to starve while he gives some quick introductions. "This is Magnus Bane. He'll travel with us for the next few months and has rented one of the shuttles. That way he’ll be independent of us until we can find a place to replace the compression coil."

“Finding a place isn't the issue here,” Jace says. “Plenty of docks on the way, only we have no credits to pay for it. Or did you finally find a job for us?"

“I told you I’m working on it.” Alec grips his spoon until his knuckles turn white. They've been over this. They have no license for official transport jobs, and it's not as if he can advertise smuggling services in the classifieds on the Cortex.

"We know that, big brother," Izzy smiles, and Alec instantly feels better.

"Magnus, you've already met my siblings Izzy and Jace," Alec says. "Izzy is our resident science and tech genius and looks after the Alicante's engine, while Jace keeps this old bug flying. Maia over there is our second pilot, and Raphael next to her takes over most of our negotiations."

Maia gives a little wave while Raphael frowns as usual. If Magnus wonders why there's no plate in front of him, he's tactful enough not to ask, but most likely he can sense Raphael is a vampire. Alec isn't sure why he and Simon insist on coming to dinner. They provide for themselves whenever they touch down, no questions asked. Still, it's a nice touch.

Pointing out the rest of the crew, Alec is the last one to fill his plate with the hearty stew he cooked earlier. “Stephen Underhill, our security officer. Simon over there doesn't eat, but somehow he still ended up as our cook.”

"Not that I have many opportunities,” Simon grouses with a grin. "You need to relax, bro, and not take it out on the steaks.”

"I'll keep it in mind, but I can't promise anything." Alec gestures to the far end of the table. "This is Clary. Her job is to keep an eye on Jace, and her dad Luke. They're responsible for the cargo."

"Hi, Magnus." Clary waves and gives Magnus' her brightest grin.

Brandishing his spoon, Magnus returns both. "Lovely to meet you all. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to catch up and chat. For now, I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Eat up!"

The blissful silence in the room lasts for all of three seconds. Magnus' spoon clatters into his bowl, startling them all. Alec turns just in time to see him grimace as if he's been covered from head to toe in demon ichor and swallowing hard.

"Ugh, this is _awful_ ," Magnus gasps and reaches for his glass of wine, draining it with three large gulps.

"What?" For a moment there Alec was genuinely concerned, but maybe Magnus is just _picky_?

"By the Angel, someone finally said it." Jace sounds relieved. What the—

"What?" Alec bellows, indignant. None of them looks even remotely sorry, and he can feel his hackles rising. "You've been eating this stew for months, and now it's suddenly awful?"

“It’s always been awful, Alec,” Jace says, wrinkling his nose as he pushes his bowl away. At least Clary has the decency to look contrite, but she doesn’t disagree.

Something inside Alec seizes like a fist, keeps swelling until he can feel it push hard against his throat. He stands, his chair screeching against the floor, almost toppling over. "You know what? Screw this!"

He needs to get out of here before he says something he'll regret. He's almost at the door when he catches a flash of blue sparks out of the corner of his eye. Magnus is standing and bent over the bowl with the stew, but Alec doesn't stick around.

A collective cry of delight follows him down the hallway, but he _does not care_.

***

Taking his frustration out on the punch bag in the training area leaves Alec with bruised knuckles and a tension headache. He drags himself to his room for a quick shower, avoiding the catwalk bridge and taking the route through the generator bay instead. The less people he runs into, the better.

Stephen finds him in his room, hunched over the screen on the desk. As always he knows just what Alec needs. He doesn't say anything and starts to knead the tension from Alec's shoulders instead, his fingers strong and sure.

"Still no new job?" Stephen asks eventually after Alec manages to let go of enough of his anger to relax back against his stomach. He doesn't let up in his ministrations, his thumbs stroking along the back of Alec's neck.

"No. The only one that pays enough for the complete overhaul specifically asks for a warlock," Alec sighs. He closes his eyes so he can better enjoy the sensation of the tension seeping out him, leaving behind a tingling warmth.

"We have a warlock now," Stephen points out, digging his thumbs in hard when Alec tenses again. "Why don't you ask Magnus?”

"Absolutely not."

"He's a nice guy. What is it about him that gets to you so much?" Stephen asks, genuine concern in his voice. "Izzy said he made you blush."

“Izzy needs to shut up." Alec racks his brain for the right words, but how can he explain what he doesn't exactly understand himself. “He’s just so-" he finally settles on with a flourish. “I don’t know.”

He’s grateful when Stephen only chuckles and slides his hands lower over his collarbone and his chest, and perhaps a little too eager when he offers to help him relieve some of that tension.

***

Despite Alec’s reservations about taking Magnus on board, day-to-day life on the Alicante goes on as it always has. Alec is still searching for a job, they still spend hours sparring and training.

They still meet for dinner every night. The space around the table is a bit more cramped now, but the always stocked pantry more than makes up for that small inconvenience. Alec isn't sure how it happened, but in little more than a week, Magnus has carved a space for himself, as if he’s always belonged here.

Even Alec finds his daily routine affected. He doesn't seek out Magnus like Izzy, Jace or Simon, because there's really not much for them to talk about. He isn't interested in makeup, clothes or downworlder gossip, and the last thing he needs advice for his love life. Nobody seems to care about that, though, always eager to tell him the latest tidbits from their visits to Magnus.

He was right, he'll never have a moment of peace again.

Alec braces himself against the wall of the shower and drops his head as he lets the hot water soothe the sore muscles of his shoulders and back. His training session with Jace will be hell today, and he knows he'll hear more than a few lewd jokes, but a night with Stephen, a night of not thinking, was well worth it. However, that bliss is short-lived because already Alec's thoughts are racing again, going through his agenda for the day.

Back in Idris Alec's days were filled with duties, from the minute he got up until well past nightfall. Reports, statements, security checklists, training, patrolling. He'd done it all without complaint, taking on far more than his share, everything to do the Lightwood name credit. Until he'd learned that he wasn't serving the good guys. That the Clave, their leaders whom he's learned never to question, are repeating every mistake from their past and are once again willing to extinguish whole races to uphold their self-created privilege.

There isn't all that much for him to do here on the Alicante. Apart from finding jobs that will allow them to keep this old bug in the air, Alec tries to find ways to help prevent a war. It's an impossible task, but he can't give up as long there's still an inkling of hope. They've made a few allies in the Downworld, like Meliorn, but their progress is slower than Alec likes to admit. No Downworlder trusts a Shadowhunter, that's a lesson he's still chewing over.

So Alec's agenda for today isn't long, but it has his stomach in knots nonetheless. He'll have to make one Downworlder trust him. How, he has no idea.

Alec turns off the shower, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes. As much as he wants to, he can't stay here forever. Water is precious, and long showers put unnecessary strain on their water purification.

Just another thing he can't change.

***

"Magnus? Hello?"

"Ever heard of knocking?" Magnus saunters out of the bedroom, drink in one hand, blue sparks dancing on the fingertips of the other for a moment.

"Uh, the door was open?" Alec doesn't quite know where to look.

The safest bet is the colorful wallpaper and pillows that lend Magnus' room a cheerful and cozy atmosphere. The carelessly belted dressing gown Magnus is wearing fits right in with the decor, but it's far from safe to look at when he drapes himself over a chair and crosses his legs.

"That still isn't an invitation for you to just waltz in. I could be with a client," Magnus says, sipping on his martini. He smirks. "Unless that's something you're interested in?"

"About that… I-“ Fuck, what is it about Magnus that makes Alec flustered and forget how to string together even a simple sentence? At least he doesn't blush this time, even if it's a close call when Magnus' brows shoot up in a _do tell_ manner. "I just ran into one of your clients on the bridge. You can't let them wander around the ship on their own."

"He was on his way to the shuttle that was going to take him home. I doubt you have anything on board that's worth stealing."

They have, but Alec can hardly tell him that they stole the Clave's most coveted weapon.

He settles on the next best truth. "We're smugglers. You can't let them know our coordinates to call for a shuttle. Bring them here in your own, for all I care, but I won't allow you to put us all at risk."

"Mmh, Meliorn told me that the Clave is after that pretty head of yours. Renegade Shadowhunters, I must admit I haven't seen that in quite a while. All you lot care about is your precious law.“ Magnus pushes up from his seat and saunters towards Alec, raising his glass in a mock salute before he drains the last of his drink. Alec watches his Adam’s apple bob and suddenly it's hard to breathe. "How do you suggest I go about my profession then? I have to pay you somehow."

Magnus has a point there. Alec knew he was a companion. He should have thought about possible consequences before he agreed to let him stay and rent the shuttle. As much as Alec wants to deny it, any potential security threats Magnus’ clients might pose aren’t entirely his fault.

“Let me know before you have someone coming or leaving. That way we can send a distress signal that will prevent anyone from tracing us."

"That's it? That would be acceptable." The look of unexpected surprise on Magnus' face makes Alec's stomach squirm.

It's not a pleasant feeling and it makes him wonder what kind of response Magnus expected. Not a reasonable compromise; Alec can see it in the curious tilt of his head, assessment glittering and sharp in his eyes as if Alec just passed a test Magnus expected him to fail. Whatever victory Alec achieved here tastes like ashes because he has nobody but himself to blame for Magnus' distrust. It’s easy to pretend he didn't want to let Magnus on board because they're not equipped to accommodate tenants, but Alec has always been brutally honest to a fault. Especially with himself.

It was a gut decision, brought on by years of internalized racism and privilege, the very thing Alec had thought he'd overcome. But he hasn't. Their journey to stop preventing a war isn't the result of him becoming a better man; it’s only the beginning. There's still a lot of things he has to make right.

"Is there another reason you wanted to see me?" Magnus interrupts his thought. Gentle, careful, as if he's scared to disturb what little balance they just found.

"Yes, ah, I-” Alec takes a deep breath. “Actually, there are two things I wanted to talk to you about.”

Alec shifts his stance wider and squares his shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back hard enough he can feel his fingers go numb. There must be a right way to do this. Either he's never paid enough attention to learn how to apologize, or it's just another one of his many shortcomings. Raziel knows Alec has plenty of those.

"I'm sorry," he says. "For what I said about you and your-" Alec hesitates, searching for the right word, unwilling to repeat his mistake before he even had a chance to apologize for it. "Your profession. I didn't know about the intricacy of it, but that's no excuse for how I treated you. I was out of line."

"And now you know?" Magnus turns and walks back to his chair. His shoulders are tense, and Alec can see him deliberately relax before he sits down again.

Alec can't place the look on his face. He thought Magnus would be, if not pleased, at least mollified enough to accept his apology. Instead, he feels like he's being tested again.

"I think so. I've read up on it," Alec replies, but that's only half the truth. He did plenty of research, but he still doesn’t understand. Magnus stays silent, but his eyes are trained on Alec as if he’s an intriguing riddle he has no hope of solving. Alec takes it as an invitation to satisfy his curiosity. “Isn’t it lonely? All those people, the sex—I mean, is that enough for you?”

It’s difficult not to squirm under Magnus’ piercing eyes. Alec regrets his question as soon as it tumbles out of his mouth. Companions are revered, beloved, and all he can think of is asking Magnus inappropriate questions. It’s like the filter between his mouth and brain completely shuts down around Magnus.

“I keep forgetting how young you are.” Magnus gestures toward the second chair, waiting for Alec to sit before he continues. “At your age, it’s always about sex.” He twirls his fingers, and another drink appears between his fingers. “Alexander, how many clients have you seen since I came here?”

Alec opens his mouth, only to click it shut again. Too many, is his first instinct to say, but when he thinks about it, the answer isn’t what he thought. “Seven?”

“Seven,” Magnus nods. “And while it’s none of your business, I haven’t slept with any of them.”

The relief that floods Alec is unexpected, soothing a tension he hadn’t even known he carried. And yet, it doesn’t bring him an inch closer to understanding what makes Magnus tick. “So what? You just talk and listen? What do you get out of it?”

“Being there for other people can be very rewarding.” Magnus smiles, the faint lines around his eyes deepening. Alec never notices that before. “You know a thing or two about that yourself, don’t you? And to answer the question I know you want to ask: I do sleep with some of them. When the time is right and when I want to.”

“What about love?”

“Yes, what about love? You tell me, Alexander. Have you ever been in love?”

Neither of them expects Alec to answer. Instead, he asks Magnus about the job and ends up surprised once again when Magnus readily agrees to help them out. With Magnus, nothing is as it seems.

***

“This is a bad idea,” Luke says for what has to be the seventeenth time, his brow furrowed. “Look, Alec, you know I trust you, and I know you can handle yourself. But the moment we’ve got a warlock on board, a client with a job that requires a warlock pops up. Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”

“It’s fine,” Jace cuts in, leaning back in the pilot’s seat.

Alec still doesn’t understand why he insists on flying the Alicante himself when they have a perfectly working autopilot. It’s not an efficient use of time and resources, but then again, Idris and the restrictions of life as a Shadowhunters are a lifetime away. They’re free to do as they please, so they might as well make the most of it.

“Alec is a big boy, and Magnus can take care of himself,” Jace says. “Raphael will be there, too, and I’ll keep the Alicante ready for take-off, just in case.” He stretches, swatting at Alec when he bends over the system monitor to check on their energy levels. “Don’t touch that.”

“I told you, the job offer was out there before Magnus showed up,” Alec says for what feels like the seventeenth time as well. He rechecks his seraph blade, just in case. He’d rather have his bow with him for the meeting with their client, but it’s too unwieldy to be used indoors.

“Look, I know you can take care of yourself, but don’t you think that’s a strange coincidence? I like Magnus, but what do we really know about him? How do we know he doesn’t have his own agenda, or worse, a bull’s eye painted on his forehead?”

The intensity of his own knee-jerk denial surprises Alec. Luke is right. Alec knows that; he keeps brooding over the same questions every day without success. Even worse, he can feel the lines between the hard facts and his own wishful thinking that Magnus is one of the good guys blur a little more every day.

“What other options do we have?” Alec runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t like it either, but it’s the only job that will pay enough for the necessary repairs. Unless you want to do small jobs for the next few months or so and risk the ship to break apart completely.”

Neither Jace or Luke have an answer for that.

***

Alec goes down face first, all the breath knocked out of him when his chest hits the unforgiving floor of the storage space turned training room with a low thump. The split second it takes to breathe through the pain is all the opening Jace needs. He comes down on Alec and straddles him, throwing all his weight into twisting his arm behind his back.

“So, what does Underhill have to say about it?” Jace keeps adding pressure, to the point where Alec has to grit his teeth so he won’t cry out from the pain that shoots from his shoulder to his elbow.

“About what?” Alec chokes out. Jace refuses to give him an ounce of slack, and even Alec’s flexibility rune only goes so far.

“The job. He’s our security officer. Don’t tell me you don’t whisper sweet nothings about possible threats and security issues in your boyfriend’s ear.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Alec gasps. Pain radiates down to his fingertips, and just when Alec thinks he’ll manage to break Jace’s hold, Jace digs the fingers of his free hand into the tendons of his other shoulder. It effectively renders Alec immobile unless he wants to risk severe damage, forcing him to tap out amidst a string of breathless curses.

Turning onto his back as soon as Jace releases him, Alec rolls his shoulder, wincing at the soreness he’ll feel for days. “What in Raziel’s name was that about?”

“Just a friendly reminder of what happens when you’re stuck inside your head instead of focusing on the fight.” Jace gets up, offers Alec a hand and helps him up onto his feet, not even bothering to hide his smug grin. “Not your boyfriend, huh.”

“No.” Alec braces his hands on his knees and sucks in a deep breath. That thing between him and Stephen isn’t a secret; living in such close quarters doesn’t allow for much privacy. But he’ll be damned if he’ll let Jace twist his personal life into something that it isn’t. Crossing the room to pick up the jacket he’d thrown over a rickety bench, Alec chooses to ignore the elephant in the room. Why is this even a thing?

For once, Jace lets it go and doesn’t pry. “Whatever you say,” he says, clapping Alec on the shoulder on his way out. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Alec wishes he could say that he does.

***

On his way back, Alec finds himself taking a detour, only realizing where his feet led him when he can see the open door to Magnus’ rooms. Alec hasn’t been back since their last conversation, too unsettled by the personal direction it had taken, leaving him with no answers and even more questions.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t see Magnus. Some days it feels like Magnus is everywhere. Clary shows off new drawings of him almost daily, her eyes shining when she recounts the stories Magnus tells while he patiently models for her. Izzy shows off improvements just as often, sometimes to the Alicante’s engine, sometimes to her eyeliner. Raphael doesn’t talk much, but Alec frequently sees him come back from Magnus’ rooms with a smile.

Magnus seems to be an endless well of wisdom and kindness, charming everybody with frightening ease. Alec is no exception. He’s looking forward to seeing Magnus at dinner, listening to his stories from different times and places with increasing fascination.

About to knock on the doorframe, Alec hesitates when he hears Magnus’ familiar lilt and a deeper voice from the inside. Ignoring common sense that tells him to leave and come back later, Alec stays and steps back into the shadows of the dimly lit hallway.

It’s not unusual for Magnus to leave his door open. His rooms are located at the back end of the lower deck where hardly anyone who doesn’t have business here walks by. Alec doesn’t understand why Magnus chooses to leave his door open when he’s with a client, but maybe it’s just what he does when he simply talks to them.

Hidden in the shadows, Alec can see most of Magnus’ living room. He’s sitting on the couch, a young man about Alec’s age next to him. He’s dressed like a gentleman, fine wool and shining leather, his head pillowed on Magnus’ shoulder. His eyes are closed, his face peaceful as Magnus cards a hand through his hair. The distance between them makes it difficult to understand what Magnus is talking about, but the easy cadence sounds as if he’s telling a story.

He’s beautiful, captivating. Like a star that draws everything into its orbit.

Alec should go. He has no right to watch a scene that couldn’t be more intimate if both men were naked. What would it feel like to have a moment of peace like that? To feel Magnus’ touch, letting him soothe Alec’s worries and slowing his continually racing mind.

Something ugly flares inside Alec, burning bright for a second before it simmers down into a pulsing ache in his chest that hurts worse than any burn ever could.

Alec only remembers how to move when the young man straightens. He backs away, heart pounding when it feels as if Magnus’ gaze is following him, but that’s probably just his guilt talking.

***

Half an hour before they reach Bellerophon to meet their client a wave comes in. Instead of meeting him in his home in the rural outskirts of Parth, they're now expected in his downtown office.

Alec can’t say he’s surprised. It’s the move of somebody who trusts no-one and takes the necessary precautions, which is why he's so angry that their own safety measures are thwarted. Instead of landing at their meeting point and having Jace keep the Alicante ready for take-off, they have to take the shuttle to their new meeting point, an office in the inner city.

Alec keeps an eye on the altitude, checking the reaction control system. He’s a decent pilot, but he doesn’t have Jace’s aptitude for flying. Better safe than sorry, especially when he’s not flying alone.

In the back Raphael and Magnus are putting their heads together. Alec tunes it out, respecting their need for privacy. It’s good to see Raphael smiling more since Magnus came into their life. Despite living with him for over a year, Alec doesn’t know him all that well. If he had to choose a label for their relationship, he’d probably settle on companions in fate. Without sunlight to worry about, life on the Alicante is in some ways easier for Raphael and Simon, but Simon has Izzy and Raphael—

Maybe Alec understands him better than he thought. It’s just a flicker of a thought, and Alec immediately feels guilty for it. He has Jace and Izzy, the most important people in his world, and, whatever they are to each other, Stephen, too. Raphael only has Simon. And now Magnus.

“So, do we know anything about this client of yours?” Magnus slides into the seat next to Alec, drumming his fingers against the control panel. His nails are painted a glittering navy today, mirroring the view outside. Alec supposes it’s fitting, Magnus outshines even the brightest star in the vast space surrounding them.

“Not much. I ran a background check, but all I found was that he’s rich. Very rich. Sebastian Verlac either has a clean slate, or he knows how to cover his tracks.” Alec turns and can’t help but smile. This close he can see that Magnus’ eyeshadow is the same dark blue as his nail polish and the pattern of his shirt. He’s sure there’s a word for that kind of thing and almost wishes he’d bothered to listen to Izzy when she tried to educate him about it just so he could tell Magnus how it brings out the color of his eyes.

“Well, considering that he wants to hire a bunch of criminals, I dare say it’s the latter,” Magnus says. He laughs, a small, almost playful thing. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Actually, I wanted to thank you.” Magnus gestures toward Alec, fingers brushing lightly against Alec’s forearm. “For trusting me enough to ask me for help.”

Was it trust that made Alec ask? It must have been, but it’s hard to remember when his mind is stuck on the contrast of golden skin against black leather.

"Dios mio, what is this?” Raphael mutters when their destination appears in the front of them. Alec has never been so grateful to be interrupted.

Bellopheron is one of the first planets that were helioformed after Earth became uninhabitable. It’s one of the central planets, a wonderland of peace and technology.

The citizens here don’t lack for anything. They work in glistening skyscrapers and live in high-rise apartment buildings. The grass is green and the skies are clear, but like most things in life that luxury comes at a price. Life on the core planets is strictly regulated and monitored to prevent crime, surveillance cameras recording every step. People live comfortably here, unaware that there’s a different world full of demons out there and that Shadowhunters are the ones who ensure their safety.

Life here is safe and comfortable, but Alec can’t imagine giving up his freedom for it.

Below them, Parth is an ocean of light that illuminates the night sky, their destination nestled between towering skyscrapers. Alec agrees with Raphael, what the hell? Verlac’s office is located in a building that sticks out like a sore thumb, a massive, sprawling building with Gothic arches and stained glass windows. It reminds Alec of the architecture of Idris and the Institute that was his home, only this building isn’t as old as it’s made to look.

The inside is a pleasant surprise though. They’re led through a tastefully decorated hall with high ceilings and golden columns. Everything screams wealth, from the expensive wall coverings to the high-tech cameras following their steps.

Verlac’s office is spacious, dominated by a massive desk that almost dwarves the man. He can’t be much older than Alec, looking almost boyish with his blond hair and delicate features. He’s what most people would call beautiful, but his eyes are cold, cruelty lingering in the smile that curls his lips. It chills Alec to the bone, puts him instantly on alert. He stands a little taller, clasps his hands behind his back, and next to him he can feel Magnus and Raphael straighten as well.

“Well, this is certainly a surprise.” Verlac pushes back from his desk and stands, rounding the table to offer Alec a hand in greeting. His skin is soft, his handshake firm. “I didn’t expect smugglers to be so clean and—” He gestures at Magnus who opted for a military-style jacket with large brass buttons to go with this navy shirt and a matching scarf. “So fashionable.”

It’s the most dressed up Alec has ever seen Magnus. It almost seems as if with the flowing silk and low-cut necklines Magnus’ easy demeanor is gone as well. He lifts his chin, a muscle on his jaw ticking. This isn’t the Magnus Alec has come to know. This is a powerful warlock, crackling with the kind of power that makes your hair stand on end. Magnus wears his clothes like an armor, much like Alec wears his trusted leather jacket and Raphael his suits.

“It’s good to hear we surpass your expectations,” Alec says.

“You seem like a busy man, Mr. Verlac,” Raphael says, his voice smooth. Alec can feel tendrils of _encanto_ brush his mind, only able to resist because he’s been trained to withstand it. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to proceed right to business. What is it that you require from us?”

“Not one for small talk, I appreciate that.” Verlac walks over to one of the ceiling-high stained glass windows and leans back against. It bathes him in a reddish glow that makes him look like a madman stripped of his humanity, which is probably the effect he intended. “I expected nothing less from a Shadowhunter, but don’t you vampires and warlocks like to hear to yourself talk?” Verlac waves a hand at Magnus. “Since your friend here is trying to control my mind, I assume you’re the warlock. Otherwise, we’re all just wasting time.”

“If your time is so precious, how about telling us about the mission, so we can all stop _wasting time_.” Raphael’s voice hasn’t lost its mild tone, but Alec notices an undercurrent of the same worry that twists his own gut. If Verlac can detect the encanto used on him, there’s more to him than meets the eye.

“I want you to steal something for me,” Verlac says, steepling his fingers with a broad smile.

“That’s not what your job offer said,” Alec cuts in. “This is supposed to be a retrieval mission.”

“Ah, but it is.” Verlac keeps smiling. It’s probably meant to be reassuring, but it makes Alec’s skin prickle. “I want you to steal something that was taken from my family a long time ago. Technically that still counts as retrieving, yes?”

“I assume that’s not all.” Magnus crosses his arms, the reddish light glinting off the rings of his fingers. “Or why would you need a warlock?”

“No, it isn’t. You’re right. I want you to retrieve two daggers for me. A family heirloom. My father never got over their loss, and good son that I am I’d like to bring them back to the family.” Some of Alec’s doubts must show on his face. Verlac nods as if he understands. “If there are any moral concerns—which I doubt since you accepted to meet me in the first place—and to make up for the inaccuracy in the job description, I assure you that the payment will more than compensate for that. The daggers are currently kept in an abandoned power plant on Miranda. I’ve tried to obtain them myself, but I wasn’t able to break the wards that seal the chamber they’re kept in. Hence the need for a warlock.”

Judging by Raphael’s and Magnus’ grim faces, neither of them believes the story they were just fed. Least of all Verlac, who shoots Alec a shark-like grin.

“To ease your conscience, I’ll double my offer. Two hundred pounds of platinum. Ten now, the rest upon delivery. But for that I expect you to bring everything else you find in that chamber to me.”

If there was any doubt that this deal is more trouble than they bargained for, the absurd amount of credits Verlac just offered settles it. If Verlac is willing to pay that much, the daggers have to be worth a multiple of it, which means the current owner isn’t just a petty thief. The offer is tempting, but not so much that Alec is willing to make a powerful enemy and create even more problems for them instead of solving their most pressing one. He’s desperate, but not a fool.

His thoughts are mirrored on Raphael’s face, and if that wasn’t enough to make Alec walk out on the spot, the troubled pinch of Magnus’ mouth definitely is. “I appreciate your generous offer, but I think we’ll pass. Theft isn’t exactly our area of expertise.”

Alec nods to Raphael and Magnus, already half-turning to leave. This guy creeps him out, and he’d rather not stay a second longer than he has to. They’ll find another way to pay for the repairs.

Verlac’s voice cracks like a whip, reeling him back. “Walk out now and I’ll make sure you’ll never work again. Maybe the authorities would appreciate a hint as well.”

“And how do you think you’ll do that? Report us for not going through with a crime you proposed?” It’s the first time Magnus speaks since they entered this pre-staged farce, but if Verlac thought him to be less powerful for it, Magnus puts him right. His voice is soft, but with enough steel that Alec has to resist the urge to stand at attention.

Verlac feels it, too. Something in his eyes flickers as he moves behind his desk, but it’s gone immediately. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I’m not fond of pressuring people,” he sighs, dramatic enough to belie every single word.

There’s an audible click, probably some kind of mechanism Verlac released under the desk, and a panel in the wall behind him slides back, revealing a small room, barely more than a cell. “This happened to the last one who refused.”

Behind a glass wall a creature Alec knows only from hearsay rages and hisses. It’s a vampire, fangs clearly visible in its slobbering mouth, but its pale flesh looks rotten in places, purpled and bruised around red, gaping wounds. There’s madness in its eyes as it crashes against the glass as if possessed.

“Pax,” Raphael says, his voice trembling.

“Pax,” Verlac nods. “I wonder if you and the warlock are among the lucky 99%, but even if you are, my friend here is always hungry.”

***

Alec draws a hand over his face, but the image in front of him doesn’t change. Five jobs, five canceled.

Fucking Verlac.

“It’s not your fault, Alec.” Stephen’s voice is gentle as he places a hand on Alec’s shoulder as if he’s talking to a trapped animal. It’s fitting, that’s precisely how Alec feels.

“Of course it’s my fault,” he bites out. “I should have known it was a trap. The offer was too good to be true.” He shrugs off Stephen’s hand, swallowing the pang of guilt that constricts his throat when Stephen’s face shutters.

“Maybe, but there’s no way you could have known the guy was a manipulative madman.”

Could he? Alec doesn’t know what to think anymore. He thought he’d do the right thing, but he felt that when they stole the Alicante too.

“Is something else bothering you? You know you can talk to me.” Stephen’s smile is small, private. It never failed to make Alec feel better and his stomach flutter, but today he just feels numb.

“I’m okay,” Alec says. It sounds wrong even to his own ears, harsh and dismissive, and he isn’t surprised when Stephen shakes his head and walks out.

The door closes with a snick that rings far too loud in the room. Alec is glad; he couldn’t stand the quiet resignation in Stephen’s green eyes. Alec used to see those eyes first thing in the morning, but not lately, and now he can’t even bear to look at Stephen.

Because he doesn’t want him to see what a failure he is. And who is _he_ anyway?

Fuck. Alec doesn’t have an answer for that. Where did it all go wrong?

***

“Why don’t we just take the job?” Simon asks during dinner. “I mean, we need the money, and it doesn’t seem as if this Verlac dude is giving it a rest anyway.”

Alec puts down his spoon and lets out a harsh breath, biting his lip to keep himself from lashing out. Simon is right, and that alone is proof something is seriously wrong. He’s supposed to be rambling in that oddly charming way he has, not being the voice of reason.

“It’s none of my business, but I think Simon is right.” Magnus pushes his half-empty plate away with a frown.

Alec can’t blame him. This trip probably didn’t turn out the way Magnus had planned. Not that Alec is keeping an eye on him, but when he checked the access logs, he couldn’t help but notice that Magnus didn’t have a single client in the week since their meeting with Verlac.

“Of course it’s your business. You’re one of us now,” Stephen says. Everyone around the table nods.

Magnus doesn’t blush, but he fiddles with his ear cuff, a quirk Alec has come to associate with Magnus being insecure or nervous. It happens surprisingly often. Meeting Stephen’s eyes, Alec nods gratefully. As the captain that should have been his line.

There’s no way to whitewash their predicament. Taking a deep breath, Alec lets his gaze roam over the small group around the table and thinks about the map and the ten pounds of platinum they found in the shuttle after they arrived on the Alicante, both stashed away in the safe in his room. Verlac had been so damn sure of himself. Turns out he was right.

“Okay. Let’s say we’ll get those daggers. How do we make sure Verlac will leave us in peace afterward?”

“I’m afraid yo—we will have to chance our luck on that.” Magnus looks spooked as he stumbles over his words as if he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that he belongs to their makeshift family now. Alec can’t help but feeling charmed seeing Magnus so flustered and catches himself just before he pulls him into a hug. Instead, he pats Magnus on the shoulder with the hand he stopped mid-air, grinning back when Magnus smiles at him, looking pleased and a little flushed.

Not for the first time, Alec wishes he knew how to express his feelings better. He snatches his hand back and rubs it against his thigh, ignoring the awkward looks everyone is giving him.

“Umm, so what’s this Pax thing anyway?” Simon asks. For a second Alec is almost tempted to hug him, too. “Wait, you said the thing looked like a dead body. You know, there’s this really old show I saw on the Cortex. It’s called The Walking Dead—”

“It was a Forsaken,” Raphael grits out. “Before the Uprising the Clave experimented with Pax to subdue Downworlders. In their effort to secure their own dominance the Clave found it perfectly acceptable to poison Downworlders with a gas that made them lose all ambition. They stopped working, stopped talking, and eventually stopped even feeding.” Raphael swallows visibly, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “If that wasn’t horrible enough, about one percent of the Downworlders reacted badly to the Pax. They became violent, feral, lost any kind of intelligence and inhibition. Forsaken only want to feed and kill, and the worst of it is that the condition is transmitted through their saliva.”

“So, once you’ve been bitten…” Clary says, shuddering. “If Verlac really created that Forsaken, how did he get his hands on the Pax? Even the Clave wouldn’t—wait, they totally would.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Luke says. “We don’t know if Verlac really got a hold of Pax. It’s more likely that creature is a descendant of the Forsaken from back then. In a manner of speaking they procreated every time they fed on someone. There have to be some left, and it’s likely Verlac found one and uses it to emphasize his threats. I mean, it’s working.” Luke crosses his arms, his face somber. “Of course there’s still a chance he _does_ have Pax.”

“So it’s decided then,” Magnus says, tapping his rings against the table. “We’ll find the daggers and hope Verlac keeps his word. Much as I don’t like it, it’s a least a small chance to get out of this.”

***

Their plan is simple. Alec and Magnus will go in and search for the daggers while Izzy, Jace, and Luke will secure the perimeter. It’s not ideal, but without better knowledge of the vicinity, it’ll have to do. They’ve decided against informing Verlac beforehand, but considering his elaborate play the place will likely be watched. Alec fully expects Verlac to show up and demand his precious heirlooms, and he’ll be glad to hand the damn things over. They won’t get paid, that’s a given, but hopefully it’ll get Verlac off their backs.

All considered, it’s a calculated risk. They’re all highly trained warriors, they can take care of themselves. Everyone except Magnus. Yes, he’s a warlock and has his magic, but Alec won’t risk Magnus getting hurt.

That’s how Alec finds himself in the training room with Magnus. He’s finishing his stretches, glancing over repeatedly to watch Magnus do the same. He pleased to notice that Magnus is serious about it, and still there’s an effortless grace in the way he moves, something almost coy that says _look at me_.

And Alec does look. It’s like he can’t help himself, every time they’re in the same room he finds his gaze irrevocably drawn to Magnus, the same warm rush he felt the first time they met curling in his gut. Alec recognizes attraction when he feels it, he’s not an idiot. He’s been attracted to people many times, but it never felt as all-consuming as what even the smallest smile from Magnus draws from deep within him. Never felt so scary he can’t even think about what it means when he wakes up to lingering images of brown eyes and soft silk.

“Alexander, don’t you think it’s me that should be worried?” Magnus rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck, pivoting once to center his balance. “You’re staring at me almost as if you’re frightened,” he teases.

“In your dreams. I’m just thinking about the mission.”

Alec drags his gaze away, hoping that Magnus won’t notice the color in his cheeks or attribute it to his rather intense warm-up. Magnus is wearing black, baggy pants that miraculously still look stylish and a tight black tank top, almost identical to his own except for a hint of silver on the seams. Hidden under the colorful shirts and extravagant jackets is a sturdy body with broad shoulders and muscular arms. Magnus is beautiful, inside and out, but that’s what being a companion is about: the art of slow seduction, body and mind, and Magnus is a master at it.

Alec walks over to the wall and grabs two of the bo staffs mounted there. He throws one to Magnus, satisfied when he catches it quickly. “On three,” he says, grinning. With shoulders like that Magnus has to work out regularly and his starting stance proves he isn’t a novice. It makes things more interesting. Alec loves a good fight. “One, two—”

Magnus charges, the force of it completely different from his usual graceful moves and even more surprising than the pain that shoots up Alec’s leg when either end of Magnus’ staff hits the outside of his knees in quick succession. For a second Alec struggles for balance, and a simple foot sweep is all it takes for him to go down embarrassingly quick.

“You cheated,” Alec says. He blinks up at Magnus from where he’s lying on the floor like a bug on his back, outraged and very impressed.

“I have a deep understanding of the human psyche.” Magnus offers Alec a hand and pulls him up, positively glowing with smugness. “You Shadowhunters are so righteous. I bet it didn’t even occur to you that I might not stick to your rules.”

“You’re right, it didn’t.” Alec smiles and nods, and then he pushes against Magnus’ shoulder and spins on his heel, coming up behind Magnus. Bringing his staff over Magnus’ head and against his throat he applies pressure until Magnus goes very still against his chest. “But you forgot one thing. I’ll always be a Nephilim, but I’m not a Shadowhunter anymore. The moment the Clave gets their hands on me, they’ll strip me of my runes for treason.” Alec moves closer until he can whisper in Magnus’ ear. “Screw the rules.”

“You continue to surprise me, Alexander.”

When did Magnus turn around? Suddenly they’re standing chest to chest, close enough that Alec can count the small lines around Magnus’ eyes, imagine a hint of blue flaring behind the warm brown of his eyes. Soulful. Alec always thought the concept that the eyes are a window to the soul was an over-trodden cliche, but again Magnus proves him wrong. His eyes are beautiful, kind, full of mischief and the lingering sadness of a life lived to its fullest, an endless well of possibilities Alec can’t allow himself to drown in.

Magnus stands very still, almost as if he’s waiting for Alec to make the first move, and suddenly Alec is sick of _everything_. There are a million reason why he should go, reinforce the boundaries between him and Magnus and be grateful for what he has, but he can’t remember a single one of them.

“If things were different, would you consider me as a client?”

“Different how?”

Alec has no answer for that. He doesn’t answer to the Clave anymore. Nothing stops him from being with whomever he chooses. Again he sees spiked hair instead of blond curls, brown eyes instead of green—

The training room suddenly seems small, compressing around them until they share the same air. Alec sucks in a shuddering breath when Magnus lifts a hand, stopping a hair’s breadth before his knuckles touch Alec’s cheek. Only years of practice in denying himself give Alec the strength not to lean into it, only this time the absolute sense of devastation hits him like a fist to his stomach.

“I don’t know.”

“No,” Magnus finally says. He steps back and straightens, and with him goes all the warmth and quiet hope. Alec isn’t sure what cuts deeper, the pity or the disappointment dulling Magnus’ eyes. “No, Alexander. I would never accept you as a client.”

***

Miranda turns out to be the planet furthest out in the system, right at the edge of the Burnham quadrant. Alec looks out for signs of life during their descent, but all he sees are the empty buildings and streets of what looks like a research compound, barely more than a handful of basic hangars and a few small houses scattered in-between.

Verlac didn’t lie, the power plant looks abandoned when they land outside the towering fence that is lined with warning signs. Everything is quiet when they walk down the access ramp, the utter lack of sound deafening.

Alec’s skin prickles. This whole place is dead, but it hasn’t been for long. A rainbow-colored ball lies in the dirt, its colors still vibrant. The shutters on the buildings he can see are intact, the paint on them still as good as new. The only thing that isn’t in pristine condition is the gate that once secured the entrance to the power plant. It lies on the ground in front of the fence, as if somebody kicked it out of its hinges.

Whoever lived and worked here left not long ago, but Alec doesn’t plan to stick around long enough to find out why.

“Why did they need that much energy?” Luke muses, taking in their surroundings. “That plant can supply at least three compounds of this size.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care,” Jace says. He looks as uneasy as Alec feels. “Magnus, Alec, find the damn daggers and let’s get the hell out of here. This place creeps me out.”

Alec returns his hug, and then Izzy’s. He has to fight not to show his surprise when both embrace Magnus as well, and even Luke claps them both on the shoulder. Magnus seems to be even more surprised, his eyes going round when Izzy kisses them both on the cheek.

“For luck,” she smiles.

“Can we go now? Raziel, you make it sound like we won’t come back,” Alec complains. He taps his comm set. “Stephen, Maia, I want you to keep the Alicante ready for take-off. We’ll make it quick.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Maia says, and then something that sounds like a raspberry crackles down the line. “For luck.”

The inside of the plant is as deserted as the outside, but here signs of a fight are clearly visible. Alec and Magnus pass by a section that seems to contain mostly offices. Papers and tablets are littering the floor, some of the furniture is upended.

“Someone was in a hurry to get out of here,” Alec says. Reaching out with all his senses he tries to find a hint where the chamber with the daggers is located, but even with his awareness and vision runes activated he draws a blank. It’s like someone drew a soundless rune around them, leaving only the sound of their boots against the concrete. “Damn, I can’t find any clues. Is there something you can do? With your magic, I mean.”

Magnus stops and crosses his arms, raising his brows with a smirk. Alec isn’t sure if his question was particularly stupid or if Magnus notices his gaze lingering on the way Magnus’ sleeves stretch over his biceps. “I thought you’d never ask. Of course I can.”

“Oh? And when did you think you’d share that wisdom with me?” Alec gapes at him. What the hell! Sometimes he doesn’t understand Magnus at all. Screw that, he doesn’t understand Magnus, period. And why is that so funny? “Am I amusing you?”

“No, but watching you all brooding and Shadowhunter-y is quite interesting.” Magnus’ smile is good-natured and warm when he pats Alec’s shoulder. “Alexander, you need to stop seeing only the companion. I’m a warlock, and a very powerful one if I may say so. I can help.”

“Cute, Magnus, really cute,” Alec grouses, but Magnus looks so pleased he feels his lips stretching into a smile against his will. Not that he’s resisting much.

“I am,” Magnus says, shrugging with a mischievous wink. “Cute.”

“Raziel,” Alec sighs, rolling his eyes. Magnus reminds him so much of Izzy, it’s uncanny. He waves his hand at Magnus, waggling his fingers. “Go do your thing.”

“I sense a strong magic signature from the reactor core.”

“You already knew that.” Alec can’t find it in him to be mad at Magnus. Actually, their banter soothes the tension he hasn’t been able to shake off since they set course for Miranda, and he suspects that’s exactly why Magnus has been doing it. Warmth prickles up his spine at the thought that somebody cares enough about him to ease his nerves. Only Izzy and Jace do that; Stephen sometimes, if Alec lets him, and that’s another can of worms Alec isn’t prepared to deal with. “Let’s go,” he says, leading the way so he won’t have to face Magnus. They have a mission to complete; he can’t afford to let his emotions distract him.

A strong magic signature was an understatement. Alec can feel the magic that protects Verlac’s precious daggers from afar, not surprised in the slightest that he can see it shimmering like a veil in front of the entrance to the core when they round the last corner.

They’re still feet away when the magic repels them. Being a warlock Magnus can sense it and stops just in time, swaying only a little on his feet, but even his awareness rune doesn’t warn Alec from taking that one step too far, and for the second time in as many days he finds himself flat on his back and Magnus offering him a hand.

“That’s pretty strong magic to protect a simple pair of daggers,” Alec wheezes, glancing down the hallway. They’re as safe as they can be, he guesses. If nobody came after that ruckus, it means that either they’re really alone or that somebody doesn’t want to be seen. Either way, they need to be quick and get out of here.

The magic feels evil, like a sheen of slick oil on Alec’s skin. The Alicante’s water resources be damned, he’ll need to shower for hours to feel clean again.

“There has to be something else in there,” Magnus muses. He draws a complicated gesture, probably testing the strength of the magical barrier. “Verlac doesn’t strike me as the type to show his hand that easily. The daggers have to be a smoke screen. Why else would he insist that we bring everything else in there?”

Yes, why else? It’s so obvious now that Alec doesn’t understand how he missed it before. “I think you’re right. Can you break the spell?” he asks. Alec makes sure to keep the wariness out of his voice, but judging by Magnus’ unimpressed stare he must do a terrible job, and he immediately backtracks. “I know, I know. You’re an excellent warlock, got it.”

With nothing for him to do but wait, Alec checks with Luke and Jace, reassured when they have nothing to report.

Alec’s only ever witnessed Magnus doing magic when he helps out in the kitchen, but the blue wisps of what he guesses is everyday magic is nothing compared to the tightly coiled orbs of power in the palms of Magnus’ hands. He watches as Magnus raises his arms, palms down, his whole body moving with the gesture, eyes closed as if he’s concentrating to draw even more power.

In that moment Alec realizes how little he knows about Magnus. He hasn’t met many warlocks, but what he sees here is an incredible display of such raw power it takes his breath away. Time seems to slow down as Magnus brings his arms down, blue fire spreading out from his hands like an all-consuming wave. The air is thick with magic, but where the magic protecting the reactor core feels wrong and dirty, Magnus’ magic is settling over Alec like a soft caress, sweet with the scent of burnt sugar, but no less potent.

Alec can feel the wards collapsing, bits of metal flying through the air as the door is torn from its hinges. “Wow,” he croaks out when the dust finally settles, all the awe he feels sufficiently expressed in that single word. “Wow!”

Behind the door, they find a huge round vault. It’s almost empty, only a large tube that must have been the power core remaining in the middle like a jagged tooth. Alec has no knowledge how a facility like this actually works, but even he can see it’s been out of use for a long time. Where once the power source must have located inside the tube, two daggers are lying amid a pile rubble and debris.

Very carefully Magnus picks them up, fingers dancing over the cool metal. “These aren’t what they seem to be,” he says, his brows knitting together. He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I can tell that they’re some kind of magical devices, but a concealment spell obfuscates their magical properties. It’ll take some time to break it.”

“No need to bother with that,” Alec replies when Magnus hands the daggers over. “That’s Verlac’s problem, not ours. Let’s just grab whatever we can find and then let’s get out of here.”

They only find a few items scattered around the room, mostly scrolls and a thick tome in a language Alec hasn’t seen before. Within minutes they’re on their way out, slightly more difficult now because the shockwave of Magnus’ magic caused parts of the structure to crumble.

“We’re on our way,” Alec radios Luke as they pick their way through large chunks of concrete and plaster. “Get back to the ship and tell Maia to get ready. We’ll be there in ten minutes tops. Take Izzy and Jace with you, we’ve got this.”

“Remind me to study the layout of the Alicante,” Magnus huffs as he blasts another blockage with a flick of his wrist. “A portal would make this so much easier.”

“You can do that?” Alec isn’t sure why he’s surprised after that blatant display of power. “I thought portals were only used back in the days on Earth, but are too risky to use in space.”

“Well, it’s infinitely more difficult to calculate the details in space, hence why knowledge of the destination is crucial. Most warlocks aren’t capable of that, but being the one who invented the portal I have somewhat of an advantage.”

“You did what? You invented—”

That’s when the noise starts.

“Do you hear that?” Alec stops in his tracks, his arm shooting out to hold Magnus back. A high-pitched sound buzzes in the air. It grows louder with every passing second, compressing the air around them until Alec feels sick with it, his head throbbing until it feels close to bursting.

He’s never heard anything like this noise, but his skin crawls with the malevolence that resonates in it. It sounds like voices, hundreds, but there’s nothing human in them, just pure animality.

“Demons!” Magnus sounds grim and even worse, concerned. He darts from behind Alec and hurries in the direction of the entrance. Alec runs after him, his long legs allowing him to follow Magnus easily. Everything is a blur, his runes aiding him to remember the right path through the maze of hallways and storage rooms.

“Wait,” Alec calls out when he sees Magnus wrenching open the entrance door, reaching out for him, but he’s a fraction of a second too late and his fingers slip right off Magnus’ shoulder. He can only watch as Magnus steps out, heart thundering in his chest, his throat constricting around Magnus’ name. Magnus’ shoulders tense as he assesses the situation, his arm shooting up, blue fire erupting from his palm right as all hell breaks loose.

Forsaken are pouring in from all directions, bouncing off the magical shield Magnus throws up around himself. Within seconds they’re piling high enough that the surging crowd of slobbering and screaming bodies are all Alec can see before he stumbles back and slams the door shut. The sound of metal against metal reverberates ominously through the empty building.

“Alec, what’s happening?” Izzy’s voice comes over the comm set, cracking with fear.

“Stay back!” Alec shouts, his heart hammering with fear. “Do you hear me? Stay back, that’s an order.” Outside he can still hear the Forsaken rage, which has to be a good sign. They haven’t gotten to their prey yet. “Magnus,” he says, opening another comm link. “Magnus, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

“I can’t maintain this shield for much longer. There are too many, and I’ve already exhausted my magic to break the wards.” Magnus voice is strained, trembling with exhaustion.

Fuck.

“Can you make it to the ship? Then go!”

“I’m not leaving you here, Alexander. I can’t—”

 _Not when I just found you._ Magnus voice is so faint Alec is sure his mind is playing tricks on him. 

“Magnus? Magnus!” Recalling every training lesson, every dangerous situation he’s overcome, Alec pushes down the panic rising in his chest. There has to be a way. Alec can’t lose him. Raziel help him, he _can’t_.

There’s only one way. Even if Magnus will hate him later, it’s a risk he’ll have to take.

“Magnus, can you make it through to me and shield us both?”

“I think so, but I won’t be able to maintain the shield for much longer.”

“That’s good, don’t worry about that for now,” Alec says. He can barely understand Magnus. Is the noise getting louder or Magnus weaker? He can’t think about that now, all that counts is reaching Magnus. “Okay, I’ll open the door on three. No cheating this time, do you hear me?”

Alec thinks he can hear Magnus chuckle. It’s a good sign, it has to be. “One, two, three.”

Magic flares as soon as Alec wrenches the door open. For a second the screams become deafening as Magnus plows through the bodies with his magic, expanding the shield to envelop them both. Alec can’t even fathom the amount of energy Magnus has to be extending, and he’s there to steady Magnus with a hand on his waist before he can even think about it.

“Okay. Magnus, you’re okay,” Alec pants. “Hold on for just a second, let me—” No time for explanations. Alec takes his stele and draws one half of the rune on the inside of his arm, the other on the inside of Magnus’ wrist, the only expanse of skin he can reach.

Magnus pales when he realizes what Alec is doing, his mouth working around a soundless cry as the Adamas sears his flesh, and then they both double over as the impact of the Alliance rune hits as soon as both halves are completed.

A shiver runs through Alec when he can feel the power of his angel blood respond to Magnus’ magic, surging under his skin as it seeks to connect to the sparks of magic that are enveloping them. Alec thinks he cries out, but it’s barely more than a croak that makes it out of his mouth.

He can feel Magnus. Can feel the surprise and pain, and the same helpless wonder that makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. Magic is expanding in his chest, seeping into every nook and cranny of his being. It’s unbearably intimate, all-consuming in a way Alec could never have anticipated. Never in his life has he been this terrified, but it’s not for the reason he expected. It feels right, like Magnus belongs to that place deep inside of him, the last piece of a puzzle he didn’t even know was missing clicking into place.

“I can feel you,” Magnus says, his voice soft with wonder. “Your strength—”

The shield wavers as the another wave of bodies crashes against it. “How’s this?” Alec asks, tracing his strength and protection rune, and he feels his power flowing into Magnus before he sees the answering glint in Magnus’ eyes.

“Hold on and prepare to fight,” Magnus warns, magic already dancing on his fingertips. He raises his arms and flings them out. A wave of blue fire ripples around them and spreads, torching the surging mass of Forsaken until the air is thick with the acrid smoke of burning flesh.

Not all Forsaken go down, but with their combined powers they slash their way to the remaining ones with deadly precision. Magnus dodges and jumps, every volley of magic hitting its target thanks to the battle runes Alec hastily traces, and Alec’s seraph blade glows even brighter than usual, blazing a trail of blue fire with every strike.

“Maia, the access ramp!” Alec shouts as they near the Alicante, but he needn’t have worried. It’s already low enough for them to dive into safety, and then everything goes black.

***

Alec wakes to cool fingers stroking over his brow and carding through his hair. It’s nice, definitely nicer than the ache in his back and the crick in his neck, or the drool-damp sleeve under his cheek. Just a second longer and he’ll get up, he just wants to enjoy the gentle thrum of magic in his blood a little longer.

“You need to rest, big brother.” Izzy’s voice is gentle as she keeps stroking Alec’s hair. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Alec blinks up blearily up her, head still pillowed on his arm. His back is killing him, but that’s hardly a surprise after he spent hours slumped over the edge of Magnus’ bed. He remembers blacking out when Magnus drew on the last reserves of his strength to make it to the Alicante. Alec recovered quickly enough, but Magnus has slept for the most part of the last day, still recovering from his magic depletion and holding tight to Alec’s hand.

“I know,” he says, clearing his throat. “It’s just—” Alec raises their clasped hands, stroking his thumb over Magnus’ skin. “He isn’t fully recovered, I can feel him drawing on my strength even now.” Taking a shuddering breath, he meets Izzy’s eyes. “I can still feel his magic inside of me, Izzy.”

“Luke said physical contact helps to restore his magic.” Izzy lifts Alec’s chin, stroking her thumb over his cheek. She smiles, but it’s strained and careful. “But the other thing… The Alliance rune, Alec, really? I don’t know how Downworlders react to having the rune drawn on them, it’s so rare there are barely any records of it. But something went wrong. The effect should have faded by now, and at least your rune should have healed at least a little.”

Which isn’t the case; the searing burn on Alec’s arm is proof enough of that.

“It must be Magnus,” Alec muses. “His magic—” No words can do justice to what he witnessed down there. “Izzy, you have no idea how powerful he is. Magnus singlehandedly slashed through those wards and killed hundreds of Forsaken. I’ve never seen anything like that. I’ve never _heard_ about anything like that.”

“He did have a lot of help, though.”

“Yes, but that was just my strength. The knowledge and the power, that was all Magnus.” Alec shakes his head, his fingers tightening around Magnus’. “He’s so much more than just a warlock.”

“Maybe that’s what you should be thinking about, Alec.” Izzy pulls him into a one-armed hug before she straightens and turns to leave. “At least lie down if you insist on staying. My back hurts just looking at you, and I don’t think Magnus would mind.”

All of Alec’s intentions to keep his distance are ruined when Magnus curls into him as a soon as he lies down next to him. There’s plenty of space on the silken sheets, but when Alec scoots back Magnus follows, burrowing against his chest like a kitten seeking warmth. It’s not as if Alec wants to keep Magnus’ at arm’s length, it just seems the right thing to do.

Screw this.

Nothing in his whole life felt as right as being here with Magnus. Just looking at him fills Alec with the same quiet joy he saw on that young man’s face weeks ago. Magnus is an extraordinary man, beautiful inside and out. He wears that beauty like a cloak. But underneath that cloak is an armor Alec longs to cut open; whatever he’ll find will be worth the risk.

But it can’t happen, not with the way things are. Alec needs to make a decision. In his heart he knows what he wants, and he hopes the way Magnus seeks him out even in his sleep means he wants it too.

“Alec?” Stephen is standing in the open doorway. He’s quiet, too quiet as his eyes flicker over their clasped hands. “If you’re ready, everyone is waiting in the ops center.”

***

The mood is somber when Alec finishes his report. Magnus eventually joins them, filling in the blanks about what happened right before the attack.

“The sheer number of them… so much contempt for those Downworlders’ lives. And what for, just because they’re different?” Izzy’s lips are trembling with the tears she’s holding back. “How can anyone be this cruel?”

“Wouldn’t it take a massive amount of Pax?” Maia looks furious.” I mean if only one percent of the Downworlders react badly to it, what went on in that compound must have been huge.”

“The question is, what happened to the ninety-nine percent?” Luke walks over to one of the small windows and looks out into the endless night. His back is bowed, wary to the bone. “History has a habit of repeating himself. There have been rumors…”

“What kind of rumors?” Alec asks when Luke hesitates. He isn’t sure he wants to hear the answer, but when has that ever mattered.

“That with Valentine back in the game the Clave resumed their experiments with Pax on a remote planet. I didn’t believe it, but clearly, that was a mistake.”

“If they experimented, they might have found a way to increase the effectiveness,” Clary says, drawing air quotes around the last word. “An army of bloodthirsty Forsaken that will attack even their own seems exactly like what the Clave would want.”

“But what does Verlac have to with it?” Simon asks, his arm tight around Izzy’s shoulders. She leans into him with a small, private smile. Alec doesn’t really get what Izzy sees in Simon, but as long as he makes her look like this, he doesn’t care.

“Probably nothing. Verlac is a manipulative ass, and probably just messed with the wrong people.” Alec lets out an inelegant snort. “Can’t say that I care. The question is, do we want to piss those people off? I mean whoever they are, they went to great lengths to protect those daggers. Handing the daggers over to Verlac might not be the smartest move right now.”

“What if it’s the Clave?” Clary asks. “We already pissed _them_ off.”

“That is a story I’ve been dying to hear.” Magnus stands gracefully, offering a hand to Clary and starting for the door. “In the meantime, it can’t hurt to lay low for a bit. Are you coming, biscuit? I have a new tea that would be perfect for this gruesome tale.”

“Biscuit?” Alec raises his hands, shaking his head. Magnus and Clary are already gone, but he’s sure he doesn’t want to know anyway. “We’ll wait for two days and keep an eye on Miranda. After that we can still decide what we are going to do.”

“Sounds good,” Stephen nods. He catches Alec’s arm on his way out. “A minute, Alec?”

***

“Stephen, I’m sorry.” It tumbles out as soon as the door to Alec’s room closes behind them. Alec drags a hand over his face. He sounds as miserable as feels.

“Do you have something to be sorry for?”

“No! I don’t know.”

“Look, I know we never really talked about this thing between us. We never made promises.” Sitting on the bed, Stephen exhales harshly and clasps his hands between his knees. “So whatever happened, it’s okay.” He looks at Alec, his eyes so kind Alec can’t breathe around the lump in his throat. “Something did happen, am I right?

“It’s not what you think. We didn’t—” Raziel, why does this feel worse than all the times his parents told him how disappointed they were? Alec knew that the conversation was overdue, he just didn’t think he would have it without going through all the possible outcomes at least three times.

Stephen is right. Technically, Alec has nothing to be sorry for. He hasn’t even kissed Magnus, and even if he did… they aren’t boyfriends. Then why does this feel like a breakup?

“You know what I think? I think you fell in love, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Stephen smiles and extends a hand, linking their fingers together when Alec takes it. “I won’t lie, for a time I hoped this would be us. But it didn’t happen for you. I guess it didn’t happen for both of us, but we were what the other needed. You were curious, and I was grieving for a lost love, and now that has changed.”

 _You tell me, Alexander. Have you ever been in love?_ That conversation seems to have happened a lifetime ago. Alec may have an answer to that question now, even if he never dreamed it would happen so soon.

“What happens now?” Alec asks. All this time he was so busy thinking with his dick, he never gave any thought to what would happen once whatever they had was over. Even if he wanted, Alec can hardly kick Stephen out after he sacrificed everything for this crazy mission. He’s a valuable member of their team. Alec needs him, and he doesn’t want him gone.

“Now you tell Magnus.” Stephen stands, squeezing Alec’s hand before he turns for the door. “Friends?”

All Alec can do is nod and try to hold off freaking out until Stephen’s gone.

***

“How do you know you’re in love?”

“Did you finally come to your senses?” Izzy is sitting on Alec’s bed and scrunches up her face, lips pursed around a spoonful of ice cream. “Right now I’m in love because Magnus gave me ice cream. With actual cream in it, not that artificial crap.”

“ _Iz…_ ” Alec isn’t whining, although he very much wants to. It took him a whole day to muster the nerve for this conservation, and of course his sister decides now would be a good time to tease.

Now that he finally knows what he wants, it’s like the whole world is plotting against him. Okay, maybe not the whole world. Mostly his own paranoia that kept him up for most of the night, playing out more scenarios than he can count on why he misinterpreted things and how Magnus will let him down gently. It left him exhausted, cranky, and even more on edge than usual.

“That bad, huh? Come here.” Izzy pats her lap, unceremoniously shoving a spoonful of ice cream into Alec’s mouth as soon as he settles his head in her lap. They used to do his back home, sneaking ice cream from the kitchen into their room, although it never tasted as good as this. Sometimes they got caught, and it was always Izzy who took the blame onto herself.

“I don’t know,” Izzy says, brushing Alec’s hair back gently. “I guess you just know.” She smiles and taps his heart. “In here. Like, when you always think about them, and not just with your dick. When they are the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing before you go to sleep.”

“Oh.”

“Not what you wanted to hear, hmmm? It’s okay to think with your dick, Alec. Love isn’t a state of bliss that happens overnight. It’s all about attraction first. Fuck it out of your system, only then you’ll know if there’s more to it, something that’s worth working for.”

“Is it like that with Simon?”

“I don’t think you’re prepared for that particular story, big brother,” Izzy laughs. “I guess it wasn’t like that with Stephen?”

Alec sits up so fast he almost knocks the tub of ice cream out of her hand. “Dammit, is nothing on this ship private?”

“You’re not as sneaky as you think, Alec.” Izzy licks her spoon with a toothy grin. “Or as discrete. And before you ask, yes, everyone is sick with the cow eyes you’re making at Magnus.”

“I hate every single one of you,” Alec huffs and snatches the tub out of her hands. It’s almost empty, but he knows just who to ask for more.

***

They’ve just started dessert when the explosion happens. It shakes the Alicante, followed quickly by several smaller ones that seem to come from inside the ship.

“We’re under attack,” Alec shouts over the blaring alarm that indicates they’ve been hit. “Jace, on the bridge. Everyone else, you know what to do.”

“Status report,” Alec demands once he joins Jace on the bridge. Magnus follows him, being the only one who doesn’t have an assigned role on case of an emergency.

“Missile strike,” Jace grits out, his fingers quick and sure on the control panels. “The shields intercepted it, but we’re down to 47%. Damn it, we should have upgraded a long time ago.”

“What are we dealing with? Why did they only strike once?” Alec stares out, cursing when he only sees black and the reflection of the stars around them. Pulling up a 360% view he angles the screen for Jace and Magnus to see. “There.” Alec points at a static dot right in front of them. “Seems small for that much firepower.”

“AFAS. Alliance Fast Attack Ship,” Jace says. He’s not just an excellent pilot; if something flies, Jace knows it. “They’ve been discontinued, but law enforcement and pirates out here in the Rim are known to still use it. Heavily armed with cannons. The good thing: it takes a while to reload them. The bad thing: we won’t survive the second one, our shields are too weak.”

“Shit! Full burn, Jace. Take us out of here!”

“We can’t, Alec, not without Adamas. The risk is too high.”

“Can’t you just shoot them?” Magnus cuts in. He looks troubled by the thought. Alec would be, too, if weren’t a matter of life or death.

“Transport vessel, remember? We have basic defense weapons, but we’re not equipped for attack.”

“Lucky then you have a warlock now.” Magnus holds out his hand and Alec immediately reaches for his stele, pushing up his sleeve to reveal his Alliance rune. He can’t feel Magnus anymore, but the rune is still tingling when they’re in the same room. He pauses when Magnus shakes his head. “I only need your power, not your skills. Your hand will be fine.”

Magnus palm is soft and warm against Alec’s own. Sharing his energy like this is different. Alec doesn’t feel the elation of having Magnus’ magic thrumming under his skin. It’s more like a harsh tug in his gut, right before Magnus’ free hand shoots out and points at their attacker. For a moment his eyes flash like molten gold as a ball of fire explodes in the distance, and then—

Silence.

It lasts only for a second until the shockwave of the explosion hits them and Jace starts cheering. Alec makes sure they have hit their target, but then he only has eyes for Magnus who averts his face, looking almost— Is he afraid? He won’t look at Alec, keeps his eyes down even when Alec cups his chin and lifts his face, so Alec does the only thing he can think of.

Magnus’ lips are soft, parting immediately for Alec as if Magnus has been waiting for this kiss, and it feels like coming home. Alec’s whole body flares to complete, hair-raising attention, his hand settling on Magnus’ waist, pulling him closer. They kiss, needy and desperate, parting only to take a shuddering breath. Magnus’ eyes are wide and dark, his breath labored. His lips twitch, and they’re crashing together again. Alec dips into his mouth, kisses him thoroughly, deep and slow. The first stroke of Magnus’ tongue sets his hair on end, his blood thundering in his ears.

“Uh, guys, I’m still here.” Jace sounds uncomfortable and amused, and suddenly more voices are filling the bridge, excited chatter and even a catcall.

“Ten credits, ladies and gentlemen.” Simon sounds smug and excited, cackling when Raphael and Maia grumble in protest. Oh, he’ll pay for that later, they all will, but right now Alec just flips them off blindly. He’s got better things to do.

***

“You never cease to amaze me,” Magnus murmurs against Alec’s lips between more kisses.

“In good ways, I hope,” Alec says, dipping his head again. They’ve made it to Magnus’ room after Jace chased them from the bridge, claiming that the heat they gave off messed with the controls. It felt like hours until they finally got here, but the big mattress and silk sheets more than make up for the wait.

“Mmh.” Magnus slots their mouth together, kissing his fill until Alec feels dizzy with need. It’s okay, he remembers Izzy’s advice. Attraction is important. “I didn’t think you’d choose me. Do you have any idea how hard it was to wait and keep my distance?”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly do a good job there,” Alec smiles, bumping his nose against Magnus’. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Alexander, I’m a one soul-at-a-time kind of guy. I know it sounds strange for a companion, but I’ve never been with somebody while I pursued that profession, and I couldn’t respect someone who cheated on their partner. But things are different now, right?”

“They are. Is that why you told me no?” Alec marvels at the hard muscle he can feel under his fingertips. Only a thin layer of silk keeps him from discovering if Magnus’ skin is a soft as he imagines, but they need to talk and he knows he won’t be able to stop as soon as he touches skin.

“I knew you were special.” Magnus pushes up onto his elbow and threads their hands together, his smile wistful. “I wanted you, but not just for a few bought hours.”

Alec doesn’t know how to answer that. To think he could have had this weeks ago if he wasn’t such a coward… He closes his eyes, mentally shaking himself. It doesn’t matter. They’re here now, in Magnus’ bed, that’s all that counts.

“So, now that you have me…”

“I need a new job. I’ve heard the captain of this ship has use for a warlock. Do you think I should ask him?”

“Oh, you should,” Alec teases back. He plays with them hem of Magnus’ shirt, anticipation already prickling up his spine. But before he can give into it, there’s one more card he needs to lay on the table. “Magnus, there’s something you need to know.” Alec puts all his sincerity into his voice, continuing only when Magnus nods his go-ahead. “We have the Mortal Cup. We stole it from the Clave so they will never be able to use it against Downworlders again. The Clave can’t be trusted, not after they welcomed Valentine back.” Alec clears his throat. Even now he can’t believe how blind they are. “We’re on our way to Earth. It’s been destroyed and abandoned for so long, nobody will think to look for it there. But it’s dangerous. That attack could have been anyone. The Clave, Verlac, or just an over-eager officer looking for a few arrests.”

“Even more reasons to have a warlock on board.” Magnus brushes his lips over Alec’s, over his cheek, the shell of his ear. He blinks, and suddenly his eyes are golden as he squirms until Alec’s fingers brush over silk and against soft, warm skin. “I’m a man of many talents.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you have questions, don't worry, I'm not cruel enough to leave you hanging. We'll see a lot more smuggling (and snuggling) in the sequel.


End file.
